


Let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised

by Kat



Series: It's all fun and games [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes is a Little Shit, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sneezing, sneezing fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat/pseuds/Kat
Summary: Wherein Junkrat is bored at a party and finds a way to amuse himself, and Roadhog. After, Roadhog pays him back.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Series: It's all fun and games [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705936
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised

**Author's Note:**

> Kinks ahoy. Might not be to your taste.

I'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight  
~ Hozier, _Dinner and Diatribes_

“‘M not going.” Junkrat crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to stare Roadhog down. Not an easy feat when Hog’s eyes were hidden behind his mask. Still. Wasn’t one to give in without a fight.

“...”

“We’ve pulled off plenty’a heists without fuckin’ partyin’ with a bunch of stuffed shirts and suits.” He scowled. “Why’s it matter how we get the intel on the place, long as we know what’s what before the job?”

“...”

“‘F I had realized was gonna be such a pain in the ass, never would have taken the fuckin’ job in the first place. Now I find out I gotta wear a fuckin’ monkey suit? Bullshit. Not doin’ it.”

“You’re the pain in the ass, Rat. Quit whinging and get dressed. We’re going to be late.”

Junkrat huffed. Clearly a battle he wasn’t gonna win. Maybe could turn it to his advantage, though. “Fine. Say you make it up to me later.” He raised a brow at Roadhog. “After all, not like we usually stay in such posh digs. Might as well make good use.”

Roadhog just made a noncommittal grunt. Well, wasn’t a no. Junkrat could work with that.

The bloke what hired them had given them a couple non-negotiables. They had to swipe the Picasso, of course, but also had to stay at a particular ritzy hotel. Presumably someone’d be keeping an eye on them, make sure they didn’t take off with the loot themselves. Not that they’d never consider such a thing... but despite the saying, sometimes there was honor among thieves. Or at least thieves that wanted to get hired again. Bastard hadn’t mentioned the party until they’d already agreed though, and for some inexplicable reason Roadhog was going along with it. Fine time for him to start following rules.

Even weirder than the specificity of parts of the plan was how the clothes fit them perfect. Neither of them were exactly off-the-rack sized blokes - himself too skinny and awkward, Roadie the opposite. Both taller than most.Didn’t seem to matter. Hated the button collar, the strangling tie, the fussy vest… but the softness of the material under his hand spoke of quality. Wouldn’t admit it to anyone, including Roadie, but the feel of it wasn’t half bad.

He spent too long in the bathroom, trying to get his hair to lay down in some approximation of order, could hear Hog getting restless in the other room. Finally gave up, mostly did what it was supposed to, except one cowlick in the front - no amount of water would make it stay. Fuck it.

“‘M ready, let’s get it over with.” He stepped out of the bathroom, still struggling with the knot of his tie. Then Roadie’s hands were batting his away and he fixed it with a couple of practiced tugs.

Junkrat looked up to say ta, but the word disappeared between his brain and his tongue. Nothing left in his head but fizzing wires and sparks. Roadhog’s face was covered as always, but instead of his usual hog-mask, a death’s head fashioned of tiny bronze clockwork parts. Simultaneously horrible and beautiful - Junkrat reached up to touch it, never seen craftmanship like that. The blue of Roadhog’s eyes, always startling after being hidden behind smoky lenses, even more shocking in the skull’s face.

Wasn’t just the mask, neither - Roadie was impressive as hell in a suit - from the blood red tie to the perfect crease in his pants to the spit-shined shoes. Like a mobster from one of those old movies they’d watch late insomnia nights. Might have to make an exception to his all-suits-are-wankers rule. Roadie was often an exception to his rules, so what was one more.

He cleared his throat, still trying to make words happen, and Roadhog’s eyes crinkled with a smile.

“You got one too.” Roadie handed him a thin black box and Junkrat took it, perplexed.

“Mask’s your thing… why me?”

“Party’s a masquerade. Everyone’ll be wearing one.”

He folded back the tissue paper and sighed. “That’s a beauty.” Simpler than Hog’s mask, it was leather fashioned to look like flames, dyed bright crimson with copper and gold edges around the edges. Light glinted, making it look like it burned. Maybe the night wouldn’t be so horrible after all, he decided as Roadie tied the leather straps behind his head.

He was wrong. If there was a Hell, Junkrat was pretty sure he was there. Blokes like clones. All wearing practically the same uniform - black suit, black tie, tiny black mask. All talking about mergers and acquisitions or some shit. Sheilas not any better, white to their black, simpering and giggling like fucking idiots. Made Junkrat itchy, like to blow something up, maybe then’d see some real expression on those faces. Roadhog’d kill him, though. Supposed to keep the few explodey-things he was able to smuggle in for emergencies and oddly enough, Roadie didn’t consider boredom an emergency. They’d already cased the place, he’d be able to draw up plans no problem. But Roadhog had somehow ended up in an actual conversation with one of the drongos and wasn’t budging.

Snagged a glass of champagne as one of the serving bots glided by. Roadie shot him a warning glance. Junkrat grinned back as he tipped the glass toward him in a salute, then took a sip. The bubbles fizzed on his tongue, and rose to tingle his nose. He rubbed it, felt Roadie’s gaze on him and an idea hit him all at once. He could have fun, even in the middle of all the suits. Wasn’t sure the champagne would be enough to make him sneeze, but someone’d decorated the museum for Christmas and walking past at least one of the garlands he’d caught the sharp scent of eucalyptus. Not much he was allergic to, but eucalyptus never failed to send him into itchy, hitching fits of sneezes. Just what he needed. Was a bad idea, knew it was a bad idea. But would kill the boredom.

He took another drink and almost before he had a chance to swallow a sneeze burst from him. “ _Hah-issh! Issh!!_ ” Managed to catch them in his sleeve, but only barely. Roadhog turned his head so fast probably cricked his neck. Couldn’t quite tell whether the fire in his gaze was angry or hot. Junkrat’s face went warm. “‘Scuse me,” he said.

“ _A vos souhaits_ ,” the suit chuckled. “Champagne makes my wife sneeze as well.”

She nodded, blond hair bobbing. “The bubbles tickle, do they not?”

“Exactly,” Junkrat agreed. As he raised the glass to take another sip, Roadhog grabbed him by the elbow.

“Pardon us,” he growled, steering Rat through the crowd to a more secluded corner.Right by a festive garland. Junkrat bit his lips on a grin. “What are you doing, brat?”

“Just havin’ a drink, mate. Why?” Another long sip, let the fizz tingle all along his tongue, bubbles felt like they went straight to his sinuses. Sneezes shuddered him. Shook his head slightly. Sniffled.

Roadhog stiffened. “Cut it out,” he said.

“Can’t help it. Like the lady said. Bubbles ‘re just so tickly.”

“You’re done.” Roadhog took the glass, finished it himself. Hog was acting like he belonged in this overly posh hellscape. Was ridiculous. Both knew they’d never fit here, no matter the disguise or the money stolen.

“Rude cunt,” Junkrat said, rubbing his arm. Likely bruise later. The little spots of pain made his stomach clench. He licked his lips. Give Roadhog shit now, be in shit later -suited him just fine. A fair trade, after all.

Roadhog didn’t bother to respond to the half-assed insult, just checked to see whether the suit and his wife were still there. While he was sidetracked, Junkrat reached out with his mech hand - a sneeze or thirty would be fine, hives less so - and snapped off a piece of the garland, making sure to get both leaves and flowers. He slipped them into his pocket with his handkerchief just as Roadhog turned back. Attempted to look perfectly innocent. Wasn’t completely sure he pulled it off.

Roadhog narrowed his eyes, studying him suspiciously. “I have to finish that conversation - he’s got information we need. Can you keep it together?”

Junkrat knew the question wasn’t a question at all. Was a warning. And also a promise for what would come later if he didn’t. He held out his empty hands, palms up. “Course, mate. Always the picture of propriety.”

“Always,” Roadhog echoed, obviously skeptical, but with one last warning glare went back to his conversation, apologizing for the interruption. Junkrat rolled his eyes.

He wandered around the museum for enough time so Roadhog could get whatever intel he needed, and to make sure he had a good idea of where the painting was, where guards were stationed, and the layout of the surrounding pieces. No need to destroy any priceless objects. Kept his mech hand in his pocket as he went, rubbing the eucalyptus leaves and flowers against the square of fabric. And made sure to breathe more deeply than usual as he hesitated by the garlands of eucalyptus and pine.

By the time Junkrat made his way back to Roadhog, his nose was itching and threatening to drip. Felt like thousands of tiny sparks buzzing. He sniffled, quietly. Even so, he felt Roadhog go still beside him - alert as always to every minute change in his surroundings.

“Did you know that the muse for The Weeping Woman was Picasso’s lover at the time, Dora Maar? He was inspired by the tragedy of the Spanish Civil War, and thought of her as a living depiction of the pain and suffering the people experienced at that time... ”

Junkrat sighed. Suit was still holding forth like a git. Even his sheila was looking bored.

“And she hated being portrayed like that,” Sheila interrupted, to Junkrat’s surprise. Good on her.“He never saw _her_ , just his image of her. She was an artist in her own right, and prominent in the surrealist movement.”`

Bloke looked annoyed to be interrupted, and upstaged by his girl. “Yes, well…”

The tickles suddenly overwhelmed him and Junkrat hunched in, pinching his nose, attempting to stifle. He managed to hold in the first two, but the third and fourth slipped past his defenses. “ _Hp’tch! Ht’chh!_ ”

This time was the sheila what blessed him. “ _A vos souhaits_! Not the champagne then. I hope you are not ill?” A small frown of concern wrinkled her forehead..

“Nah,” he said. “‘M a little…allergic…” shit, wasn’t gonna be able to finish it. Yanked his handkerchief free as the sneezes crashed over him.“ _H’rissh! Isshh_!” He blew his nose and the urge to keep sneezing backed off for the second. Eyes starting to itch too, he rubbed them carefully. “‘Scuse me.” 

Could feel waves of anger radiating from Roadhog and he had to bite his tongue to keep from grinning.

“ _Oh mon pauvre_ ,” she said, patting his arm. “We will not keep you. Take him home,” she said to Roadhog with a sharp look.

Roadhog cleared his throat, took Junkrat’s arm none too gently. “I will,” he said and the threat in his tone made the hairs at Junkrat’s nape stand up.

He wanted to say something cheeky but all he could do was sneeze. Kept the handkerchief pressed against his nose to muffle the sound, but felt the stares of suits and their sheilas as Roadie muscled him out the door and into one of the waiting hover-cars.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Roadhog demanded as he slammed the car door. The car lifted slightly and hummed, merging smoothly into traffic.

Might’ve left the building, but Junkrat’s nose still itched horribly. Every few minutes another sneeze would force its way out, and part of him started to wonder if this was completely a bad idea. “Sn… _Hhh’isssh!_ Sneezing, mostly.” He giggled. Roadie didn’t. Course, to be fair, was pretty sure Roadie never did. Imagining Roadhog giggling teased another laugh from him.

“Damn it, Rat. I told you. I told you to keep it together, but did you listen?” Roadhog’s voice was deep, rough and it went straight to Junkrat’s cock.

“Tried, mate, I swear.” He tried for innocent, though was actually innocent often as Roadie giggled. Gotta least attempt to play it cool. His palms had gone damp, his heart thudding somewhere in the middle of his throat. Knew that look in Roadie’s eyes.

“What am I going to do with you, then? How am I going to teach you to listen?” He loosened his tie and pulled it out of the collar of his shirt, fabric sliding free with a whisper.

“I’m s..sure I d...don’t know…” Junkrat’s breath hitched on the words - excitement fizzing his veins, the need to sneeze fizzing his nose. “ _Ih...hih_ …”

“Stop,” Roadhog said sharply.

More obedient than Junkrat himself, the sneeze backed off. “Oi asshole, ya scared it away.” Unfortunately it lurked at the edges of his awareness, leaving his eyes watering and his breathing shaky and weird. Reached up to itch his nose, but Roadhog grabbed his hand and yanked it behind him. He wrapped his tie around it, tying it tightly to his mech hand.

“No touching. No sneezing. Not until I say so.”

Junkrat groaned. “‘S impossible! Gonna kill me.”

“There’s a price for failure. Better make sure you’re willing to pay it.” 

The ride was agony.Junkrat’s sinuses throbbed, his nose itched fiercely. He scrunched it, tried to rub it against his shoulder, nothing helped. He had to sneeze, had to… knew he couldn’t. He squirmed under Roadhog’s steady gaze. His pants were uncomfortably tight.“Ugh, Roadie, this is torture. I really... really…” He gasped in a breath, the sneeze almost tumbling out but he managed to bite it back at the last second.

Roadhog was a mountain, stone, implacable. Behind the skull mask his eyes burned.

“Don’t… don’t think I can…”

“You can and you will.”

Junkrat closed his eyes, had to focus or he was going to lose the battle. Think about something else, not how it felt like every bit of pollen in the whole world was in his nose. Think about something else, not how much his cock ached. Think about something else, not about how he wanted Roadhog to make him beg… Felt his face go hot, like he was fevered.

The car slid to a stop and he opened his eyes, blinking away allergic tears. They’d reached the hotel, thank the fucking gods.Just had to make it to their room, Roadhog’d have to let him go then. Would have to let him find release.

“Careful,” Roadhog warned as he helped Junkrat out of the car and draped Rat’s jacket over his shoulders so his still-tied hands were hidden by the fabric.

Junkrat nodded. Couldn’t talk, would either beg or sneeze and neither was needed right now. Concentrated on one step after the other. Concentrated on Roadhog’s hand splayed across his back, each place of contact burning. Felt himself trembling under the touch, but unable to stop it. Fucking finally the door clicked shut behind them, lock snapped home and they were alone.

Without warning, Roadhog reached out and ripped Junkrat’s shirt open, buttons clicking to the floor. His skin tingled as the cool air touched him. Hog released his hands from the tie then, “Strip,” he ordered.

Rat complied, Hog’s gaze making his fingers clumsy. Wanted to rub his nose so bad; knew would be worse if he did. Felt like his whole body was vibrating, sparking and fizzing. Roadhog looked down at him, studying him closely, like he was memorizing how Junkrat looked at this moment, naked and hard, torn between competing needs, on the edge.

“How does it feel?” Roadhog asked.

“I… I want… need… _uh...huh_ …” Not gonna sneeze, he told himself. “P...please… I…” can’t stop it, he realized as a flurry of itchy sneezes set him shivering. “ _Hih-Isssh! Isssh! Isshah!_ ” A gasped breath only fueled more sneezes and Rat gave up. He’d lost.

Roadhog smiled at him with fond dismay. “You’re mine, now.” Hog pushed him back, until he was bent over the bed. “How many do you think? How many for putting on a show like that? And then for going against my orders?”

Junkrat shrugged, knew it wasn’t up to him. The sheets were cold and soft on his overheated, oversensitive skin. Roadhog’s belt clinked and Junkrat swallowed, hard.

“Count. Out loud.” Crack of leather against leather, then a whistle snap and a bright line of fire on his ass.

“One,” he managed.

Another snap. “Two.”

Again. “Three.” But he wasn’t sure if he said it or just thought it. _Four_. His brain short circuited. _Five_. Oh … oh… gods … hot pleasure pain ache yes this is what he needs. _Six_. Yes, give him give up give it all let go into fire flow into fire and burn burn burn until he is nothing but ash and the cool clean breeze blows him away and he is gone….

“On your knees, Rat.” The rumble of Hog’s voice called him back.

Lightheaded, heart pounding, he dropped down. Hog fisted his fingers in Rat’s hair as Rat tugged open his fly, nuzzling little sneezes into his thigh. Hog groaned and with one smooth move, Rat took him into his mouth, sucking greedily, itching his nose on Hog’s belly. Oh, it was good, was what he wanted… made him ache… slipped his hand between his own legs, stroking long and slow. Pleasure uncurled in him, stretching through his body building toward his end and as it built he felt another urge rising with it. Little sniffles. Rub nose against his belly. All over fire. All over wanting.

“Roadie… ‘m too itchy.Please… gotta…” murmured begging, all he could do as the tickles multiplied. He hitched, hitched, but nothing. Stuck.

Those big hands lifted him easily, so fucking easily, dumped him sprawled on the bed, sheets a delicious sting against his ass. Shivered under Hog’s dark gaze - expression still hidden behind the mask. Weird to be naked while Hog was still completely clothed and yet… perfect. As Roadhog bent over him, Rat noticed a small fluffy white flower tucked into the silver hair behind his ear. Must’ve pilfered it from his pocket at some point. As Roadhog ducked his head, Rat leaned up to meet him and took a deep breath of the flower. His fingers clenched on Roadhog’s shoulders.

A small moan slipped from him and every single thought fled except the fierce need to sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze.

“Go ahead, Rat,” Roadhog said and it was like the permission opened the floodgates.

“ _Huh R’isssha! Issh-issh-issh!”_ He gasped in a breath and Roadhog drove into him with one easy thrust. Gods might end up dying right here. “Oh, Hog please…” Hog’s hand closed around him and began to stroke. “Yes… Gods…” The sneezes thrust him against Roadhog, shaking him until all he could do was cling to him. Everything built at the same time until a final sneeze burst from him and felt like he exploded, pieces of himself flying off in all directions. Roadhog was only a moment after, and they collapsed together onto the bed, panting.

Slowly the world came back into focus, a piece at a time. Hog’s arm around him, holding him close. The soft swipe of fabric over his face, cleaning him up. Muscles loose.

“Ya know, Hoggie, might just like fancy parties after all,” he said and was rewarded by Hog’s low chuckle at his ear.


End file.
